


You Could Be my Silver Springs

by Scout924



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Dustin is the best, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Gen, I hate OCs but I couldn't help myself, Slow Burn, Steve needs love too, Suspense, Unrequited Love, Young Steve/Young Reader, and he’s a pretty great mom, the party
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-05 11:59:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12794100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scout924/pseuds/Scout924
Summary: "You go to Hawkins? How come we've never seen you with Steve because we are ALWAYS with Steve. He like, never goes anywhere without us."In which you haven't spoken to Steve Harrington since that night at the Snowball, and you've made it a point to not care about what's going on in his life. Which is why you're especially surprised to find that he spends his days running around with six middle schoolers and occasionally dons a frilly apron.





	1. Don't Act Like You're Not Happy to See Us

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Things Can Only Get Better](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689208) by [ashestoroses018](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashestoroses018/pseuds/ashestoroses018). 



> This is my first fic published on AO3, and also my first penned /Reader piece, so let me know what you think!  
> I know it's typically acceptable to use F/N or Y/N, but it doesn't jive with me, so I threw in a name for the reader. It may be considered more Second Person than Reader-centric, but it is what it is.  
> This will eventually be multi-chapter, probably after Thanksgiving, and it was inspired by the first chapter of "Things Can Only Get Better" by ashestoroses018.

You trudge up to the door, really wishing your car had broken down anywhere else besides on Steve Harrington’s road. It’s pouring down rain in January, and Hawkins is covered in ice, snow, and slush. You’d like to pretend you’re not freaked out as you walk past the eerie woods to get to his door, you heard someone disappeared there this time last Halloween. You walk around the large, bean shaped pool as steam rises ominously into the crisp night air, and pause in front of the house.

You and Steve used to be close. In middle school, he used to call you almost every night, and you’d talk for hours until your mom would make you get off the phone. You passed notes in class, walked home from school together, played basketball on Saturdays. He even asked you to the Snowball. But after that night, your friendship was over, and you push the embarrassing memory out of your mind. Now it’s junior year of high school, and you’ve done a good job of avoiding each other. Steve has been the most popular guy in school, and you try your hardest to keep to yourself.

But now you’re face-to-face with his door, and your toes are numb from cold. You knock on the door and wait, shivering and hoping for the best.

Steve answers, sleepily running a hand over his face. When his eyes focus and recognize who you are, he almost jumps in surprise.

“Did I wake you?” You blurt.

“Uh…no, no. What the hell, Joey? Get in here!”

He ushers you inside, and you peel your sopping wet boots off, socks slapping loudly on the floor.

“I’m really sorry. My car broke down at the intersection and you’re the first house I came up on. Will you get me a towel, your mom will freak if she sees this puddle on the floor.”

“Fuck it,” he comes back around the corner with a towel, but drapes it across your shoulders instead. “They’re not home to see it. I’ll get it later.” He works his hands up and down your arms over the towel, as if he’s ringing the water out of you. “Are you okay?”

You manage your best reassuring smile, even though you know it’s shaky. Your feet are burning and your clothes are soaked through. “I’m fine, just a-a little cold,” you chatter.

“Shit. Come on, get a hot shower and change your clothes. You’re never going to get warm if you don’t.”

You start to protest, tell him you only came to use the phone to get a tow, but he pushes you more forcefully up the stairs.

“Nobody’s open right now, Jo, it’s a Saturday night. Only two places I can think of are closed anyway. You still driving that piece of shit?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Yep, but it’s the best piece of shit money can buy, so I keep driving it.”

He hands you a dry towel, towering over you as you only come up to his chin. The last time you were eye-level with Steve was that night at the Snowball. He hit his growth spurt not long after. “Surprised that monster still runs.”

“Yeah, well not everyone’s Daddy provides them with a BMW.” You regret the words as soon as they snap out, and turn to slam the bathroom door closed to ignore Steve’s grimace.

 

You take a shower so hot steam rises off your skin, and rub the soft cotton towel through your hair before wrapping it around your body. Your toes have gone from numb to just cold, and you try not to dance around on the icy, expensive tile. What you’d give for some socks.

“Steve?” You peek your head out the door, looking up and down the hallway for him. “Hey Steve, can I get some clothes?” He comes out of his bedroom, and you accidentally run into each other. He catches you lightly, cool hands grab your shoulders to steady you, and suddenly you are entirely too close and wearing far too few clothes to be pressed up against Steve Harrington. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him, and though he’s older, you still see your old friend in this teenage boy looking down at you.

Steve pauses, holding your gaze before you both step back awkwardly, and he hands over a teeshirt and sweatpants. You release the breath you’ve been holding and shiver slightly.

“I’ll, uh, go get you some socks too. You hungry?”

“Yeah, a little. I just got off work, haven’t had time to eat. I-If it’s not too much trouble.”

He throws a hand over his shoulder in dismissal as he walks away. You slip back into the bathroom to change, quickly donning the Hawkins High Basketball shirt he’s given you.

The shirt rings a bell because at one point, you think you remember Nancy Wheeler wearing it to school last year, her long dark curls falling down over the faded letters across the chest. You used to see her with Steve everywhere; it was obvious they were together. If he wasn’t walking her to class, he was loudly and openly laying a kiss on her by the lockers, behind the gym, inside his car. Everywhere. Not that you’ve noticed.

But since Halloween, he’s been much more quiet in general and very noticeably alone. Rumor has it that Nancy dropped Steve for Jonathan Byers, and while the entire school seems shocked, you’re silently rooting for them. Byers has always been the school freak, but he’s really a nice guy. You took art with him last year and he helped you out a lot. Guy’s just misunderstood. He deserves a nice girl like Nancy.

When you emerge from the bathroom, still rubbing the last of the water from the ends of your hair, you smell bacon. A pair of socks sit neatly outside the bathroom door.

Once downstairs, Steve simultaneously flips through TV channels and pushes sizzling bacon around in a skillet. He stops on a basketball game and looks up when you pad into the large kitchen.

“Breakfast for supper?” He asks, grinning. You pull up a barstool and can’t help but grin back.

“Sure. You look like my mother in that apron.”

He frowns at you, then down at the ruffled monstrosity thrown over his clothes. “Grease stains are a bitch to get out, you know.” Somehow Steve manages to look both out of place and comfortable at the same time, dancing back and forth between the trash can and the stove as he manically swirls eggs in a steaming skillet.

“You got the whole place to yourself, Steve?” The large house almost echoes around your voice and the cooking noises from the stove.

“Yeah. My parents are gone most of the time.” He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t press. Seems like his folks haven’t changed much over the years.

“What’s Steve Harrington doing alone on a Saturday night? No party? No babes?” You wink at him from the fridge as you pour two glasses of milk. He snorts, pouring eggs onto two plates.

“Well, I didn’t have any planned, but one showed up at my door,” he throws that smirk at you and you groan, turning away to hide that  _stupid_ blush creeping up your face.

“You should stay here tonight," he says out of the blue. He leans across the counter from you and slides you your plate. "No questions asked. We'll figure out what to do with your car in the morning. I’ll take the couch.”

You protest, putting up a half-hearted fight about your car getting snowed in and worrying your mom, but you both know your parents won’t notice if you come home tonight or not. You try to argue with him, but you know you’re done for. You’re already wearing his clothes and letting him feed you like the stray cat you are. You push your eggs around on your plate and try to scrape together your dignity.

How can this be the first time you’ve been within ten feet of Steve Harrington and he makes you feel like you’re thirteen again?

You hate to admit it, but your sad, pathetic girl heart had always dreamed about this in one way or another. That some day Steve would waltz back into your life, doting on you and noticing every little thing about you, just like he used to. It would be fate, and you’d hang on his arm like half the female population of Hawkins High, but this time he would look at you like he gazes at Nancy. Like you’d hung the moon.

“You know it’s, um, good to see you again,” he starts, spearing a piece of sausage. “It’s been awhile.” You refuse to look up even though you can feel his eyes on you.

You would hope Steve would be kind enough to not bring up the past, to pretend like you didn’t used to spend your middle school days eating Oreos at this counter. He could at least do you that favor. Yet here he is, begging for forgiveness. You know it because he’s giving you those stupid,  _stupid_  puppy dog eyes, glorious hair flopping over his face likes it’s his job to turn your resolve to mush.

“Yep. It has been.” You let the awkwardness hang thickly in the air, because he deserves to squirm, damnit. You’re not his girl, or  _one of_  his girls, and you refuse to push things under the rug for him because just because he’s King Steve.

“I really miss you, Joey.” He says it so quietly you barely catch it, and goosebumps tingle up your arms and down your back. You meet his gaze, but suddenly someone’s beating on the front door, the sound like a gunshot echoing through the house. You both startle, and your fork clatters on your plate as Steve goes to answer the door.

He swings it open to reveal six kids, and of the group, you recognize Nancy Wheeler’s little brother and “The Boy Who Came Back to Life,” a kid named Will. Curious, you step into the kitchen and out of direct line of sight. Another boy with a mop of wild curly hair stands at the front of the group, grinning at Steve.

“Steve-O! What’s up, ol’ buddy? How’s it hangin’? Sitting around being sad in your underwear again?”

Steve sputters, and they collectively push him aside and flood into the living room, making themselves at home. You clap a hand over your mouth to hold in a laugh, because you have never, ever seen Steve look like this, especially not at the expense of a middle schooler. He has his hands on his hips, tutting like a wet hen. “Uh,  _no_! I am not, and what in the hell do you dipshits think you’re doing here?”

“Doing you a favor, Dipshit,” the boy replies easily, flopping onto the loveseat. “Don’t act like you’re not glad to see us. We know you’re bored out of your mind in this castle and you’re just  _dying_ for some---“

The Wheeler boy taps him on the shoulder and looks in your direction. You’ve been spotted. You were leaning against the sink, drinking in the mini sitcom before your eyes.

“ _Shit_ , dude! I’m sorry!” The boy jumps up, his cap sliding off his head. “I didn’t know you had a girl over. Shit Steve…”

Six wide eyes train on you, and a hot blush creeps up your neck. You shove your hands in the pockets of Steve’s sweatpants and come out of hiding.

“He doesn’t have a girl over,” you respond, elbowing Steve, who’s looking particularly motherly with the dish rag thrown over his shoulder. “My car broke down at the intersection and I came to crash his party.”

The curly-headed boy eyes you. “You look really familiar.”

“Um, I work at Moody’s Garage…?” You offer. Everybody knows you there.

“Nope, that’s not it. Impressive, but I haven’t seen you there.”

You feel yourself growing redder under their stares. “Um, I go to Hawkins with Steve?”

“Nah, we’re just eighth graders.” He’s giving you some serious side-eye right now. “You go to Hawkins? How come we never see you with Steve because we are  _always_ with Steve. He like, never goes anywhere without us—“

Steve whacks the boy on the back of the head with his cap before smooshing it down on his head. “Cut it out, Henderson. She’s never met you twerps before.”

“You came over to our house once to work on a project with Jonathan. That’s my brother.” Will smiles good-naturedly at you, and you relax a little.

Steve goes back to the kitchen, mumbling something under his breath like  _Geez, I didn’t realize everyone and their mother is hanging out with Byers these days, huh?_

“Joey, these are my shitheads. Shitheads, this is Joey,” he waves his hand around the room as he tilts the remaining food from his plate into his mouth.

A giggle chortles up out of you. “ _Your?”_

“Yeah, we adopted him,” the curly-haired boy, introduced to you as Dustin, tells you as he steals a piece of leftover sausage and gives you one of the cutest grins you’ve ever seen.

Max, the red-headed girl, is rattling through Steve’s fridge and hands a soda to Lucas, who hovers near her side.

“Mooches! Get the hell out of the fridge!” Steve calls, waving his rag at them, but there’s no edge to his tone. “Have you shits eaten dinner?”

“We were kind of counting on you taking us somewhere,” Mike says, smiling at the girl sitting next to him.

“Cookies,” she says quietly, and you know that Steve has met his match in the puppy-dog-eyes department.

“Cookies? You’re shit out of luck, kid. I don’t bake. I microwave.”

“Not true!” You counter, piling plates in the sink and moving Steve out of the way with a hip to wash them. “You cooked, I’ll clean,” you mutter before you can think about how domestic the phrase sounds.

“My magic is limited to breakfast food,” he corrects, “but I’m out of Eggos.”

The dark-haired girl, El, frowns and starts rustling through the pantry. As you’re drying the last plate, she brings you an offering of chocolate chips, which look questionably old. She gives you a tiny smile. “Help?”

You look over at Steve and find him smirking at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Fleetwood Mac's "Silver Springs," which also inspired the work. Snaps if you know the song!


	2. Might As Well Make It Convincing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is awkwardly short. I felt the first chapter was too long, but dividing them left this one at a bad length. My apologies!  
> More to come soon.

The kids have gathered around the counter as you fold the questionable chocolate pieces into your cookie dough. You made a double batch, so you’re only half mad when you scold both Steve and Dustin for stealing bites out of the bowl as you mix. El stands beside you, watching your every move silently.

The kids are telling Steve about their most recent DnD campaign, where it seems Mike is DM. Steve looks a little bewildered, and you know he doesn’t play, yet he pretends to be interested as the four boys are nearly shouting to talk over one another.

“You don’t know anything. Freaking dungeon master and you still don’t take the time to Do. Your. Research,” Dustin says, puncutating each word with a loud slap on the countertop.

Mike rolls his eyes. “No, you’re just an idiot. It has seven heads, everybody knows that. You just won’t shut up about it because you didn’t get to deliver the final blow last time. You can’t always be the hero, Dustin.”

“I didn’t ask for that, but obviously I know the _Monster Manual_ way better than you--”

“You guys talking about the Thessalhydra? It definitely has eight heads,” you say, following their conversation as you reach down to pull out a cookie sheet. “Unless you count the giant mouth in the middle, which I don’t, because it’s not really a head…”

You look up, and everyone is staring at you like _you’re_ the one with eight(?) heads, except El, who is fascinated with the cookie dough she is rolling into a ball in between her hands.

“What?” You shrug, and Steve groans, putting his head in his hands, mumbling about how much of a nerd you are.

Dustin cheers and smacks Mike on the arm, who continues to grumble. “See? Dude, you’re a freaking genius, Joey! Why haven’t you been hanging out with her all along, Steve? She’s such a badass! Makes cookies AND plays DnD?” He elbows Steve, who cuts eyes at him. “Where have you been hiding?”

You blush, fidgeting with the parchment paper. “Not my most endearing qualities, but thank you anyway, Dustin. Steve always hated when I talked about my ‘nerdling activities.’”

“Sorry, I just don’t get it,” he shrugs, now sucking the wooden spoon you’ve been using.

“So you guys used to be friends?” Lucas asks.

You inwardly cringe, and you can feel Steve tense beside you. You stay quiet, leaving him with the job of answering that question. They’re his kids, after all.

“Uh, yeah, we used to hang around all the time when we were your age. We did everything together actually,” Steve says, and his eyes creep over you slowly.

“Well then how come you don’t hang out now?” Dustin asks. “Did you piss her off?” He accuses, pointing at Steve playfully.

 _Yes,_ you think, still focusing all your energy on putting the cookies in unreasonably perfect rows. Now you feel El’s eyes on you too. For a second, you feel like you’re her age again, standing alone at the Snowball and staring across the gym at a younger Steve Harrington.

“We just grew apart,” You answer, clipping the conversation to a close and finally meeting Steve’s probing gaze. He looks back like he wants to say something. “That just happens when you grow up.” You dust your hands off on your pants and slide the cookies into the oven.

The kids fall back into their banter, and you take in the suddenly full room, six thirteen-year-olds hanging out on a Saturday night with Steve, _the_ Steve Harrington. You feel like you’re looking at a stranger as he tousles Will’s hair and interrupts a conversation between Max and Lucas over who’s more badass, Madonna or Cyndi Lauper, simultaneously slapping Dustin’s hand and chastising him for eating too much cookie dough out of the leftover bowl. He complains that he’s hungry and sticks out his tongue in retaliation.

“Well, this doesn’t exactly count as dinner, Steve,” you counter.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m an unfit mother, rub it in.”

“WAIT! I know where I’ve seen you!” Dustin cries, slamming his fist on the counter. El spooks beside you, and you put a hand on her back. Steve nabs another piece of cookie dough.

“You’re the girl in the picture in Steve’s room!”

The room falls dead silent, and Steve suddenly looks like he’s either seen a ghost or eaten too much cookie dough. He gives Dustin a look that could burn through hell, eyes wide and accusing on the middle schooler.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” He whispers between clenched teeth, turning away from you.

“Yeah, it’s one of those photo booth strips! There’s four pictures and, uhm…” he trails off and quickly wedges himself between Max and Lucas when he finally catches Steve’s deadly stare.

You pretend to busy yourself with cleaning up and purposefully ignore them like you’re clueless, but you know exactly which pictures Dustin is talking about.

It was early August, your eighth grade year. School hadn’t started yet, and you and Steve were roaming Hawkins together. You used to hit the pool, the arcade, and the basketball courts before noon and not think twice. You remember racing him to the mall that day, looking for an escape from the scorching heat. You wandered around for awhile, peeking in stores and getting run off for leaving nose prints on windows. Then you had pulled Steve into the photo booth to avoid the mall cop again.

“I got fifty cents,” he had offered, digging around in his Velcro wallet. “Might as well make it convincing.”

You remember when he slung his sweaty arm around you because of the thrill that ran up your chest. That’s why you still remember the first picture: your eyes are wide and you’re grinning like an idiot, like it’s your birthday or something. Steve is looking away and laughing. You realized it then and you can see it so clearly in the picture. It's what best friends fear the most: you had a huge crush on Steve Harrington.

You try to keep that idiotic grin away now, focusing far too hard on scrubbing the counter top and not on Steve, who keeps glancing your way. You still have your photo strip too, but you hid yours in a keepsake box under your bed so you don’t have to look at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: I played DnD very briefly in college with an amazing group of people, and I fangirled so hard seeing it in Stranger Things.


	3. And did you say that's she's pretty?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for the incredible love that has been left for the first two chapters. The feedback I got from you guys was so amazing, detailed, and thorough, and it made my Thanksgiving break! Thank you to everyone that left kudos, comments, and those who bookmarked the work. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I intend on replying to all your comments!

“You had three!”

“No.”

“She didn’t, she’s only had two.”

“Ugh, Mike, you always stick up for her.” Lucas rolls his eyes, and Max elbows him.

You wink at El as she eats the last cookie slowly, like it’s her last meal. “So good,” she says to you.

You don’t know why this interesting girl only speaks in three word sentences max, but you like her. When she does say something, it’s meaningful.

“These are the best cookies I’ve ever tasted, Joey,” Dustin says, swiping crumbs off the plate. “You need to hang out at Steve’s more often.”

You smile at him as you suck chocolate off your fingers, and look across the room to find Steve staring at you, an unreadable look on his face. You yank your fingers out of your mouth, blushing at the connotations now running through your head.

Someone knocks at the door, loud and rapid, and the kids quickly fall silent. You glance over at Steve, who looks confused. As he stands to answer it, El grabs your hand and pulls you into the kitchen. You narrow your eyes at her in a silent question as she tugs you into the walk-in pantry, but you follow her. You close the door, but leave just a slice of light to see through. She puts a finger to her lips.

You hear some rustling from the living room, and then see Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler, of all people, rush into the living room. You feel El noticeably relax under your hand on her shoulder.

“What are you guys doing here?” Steve asks.

“Where’s your bat?” Nancy asks, and her cheeks are flushed red, eyes wide. She looks like she’s seen a ghost.

You expect Steve to laugh at her, but he tenses, as does the remaining party in the living room.

“What’s going on, Nancy?” Dustin raises his voice as he stands from the couch.

“Where’s Eleven?” Jonathan’s quiet voice asks now, and he silently scans the room.

“ _What_ did you see?” Mike demands, standing in front of Nancy.

They look at each other, then Nancy says, “We found a…a portal?”

“A hole. Into the Upside Down.” Jonathan clarifies.

“ _Shit,”_ Steve hisses. Dustin goes to stand beside him, and he looks up at Steve in a way that breaks your heart just a little, even though you have no clue what they are talking about.

El pushes the pantry door open then, still gripping your hand tightly. You follow her into the living room.

Nancy and Jonathan startle when they see you both, and Steve runs a hand over his face, looking even more nervous.

El pales, but she looks ten years older all of a sudden. “Where?” She asks, demands even.

Jonathan looks like he wants to answer her, but he turns to Nancy. The tension in the room is so palpable you feel like you could gather it in your hand.

“Hey Nancy,” you start slowly, and you get the feeling you are not wanted in this conversation.

Steve and Jonathan share a look. “Hi Joey,” she smiles, and you know her nervousness has nothing to do with seeing a girl in her ex-boyfriend’s house. “What are you doing here?”

“My car broke down…” It’s then you notice a revolver clutched in Nancy’s hand.

“Wait, what the hell is going on here?” You demand, goosebumps raising on your arms. You pull back a few steps and drag El under your arm.

You stare at Steve. “Start talking.” You need to get El and the kids out of the room, now. Sweat springs on the back of your neck. However, when You look around at each of the kids, they all seem to know what’s going on. None of them look as utterly bewildered as you feel right now. Dustin gives Steve a pleading look.

Steve stutters, eyes darting back and forth between you and the group. He and Nancy share a long look that makes jealousy churn hot like nausea in your stomach. Whatever this is about, it’s something he’s done with Nancy. She inclines her head toward you and raises her eyebrows.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, sighing. He takes a step toward you, refusing to look you in the eye. “Uh, Joey, I’m really sorry, but this is kind of private. I, I can’t tell you.” 

You take a deep breath and stare at your feet, hot, angry tears threatening to rise up and spill over. The slap of betrayal is overwhelming, and you feel so incredibly alone.

You feel like you’re thirteen again, just as you have countless times tonight, but this time the feeling is so real, so sharp. You remember holding back tears as you watch your best friend turn his back on you and leave you standing alone. And now you feel so silly, like you should have seen this coming, just like you should have known coming back here, seeing Steve again, would be just as painful and humiliating as that night at the Snowball. 

You turn away from him and head toward the laundry room to collect your clothes. As you go, you hear Nancy whisper loudly, “Steve!”

You slam the door shut behind you, and Dustin says, “Dude, you’ve gotta tell her!”

“No, I’m not throwing her into this. Nobody should have to see that shit. She didn’t ask for this,” Steve says.

“But Steve--!” Dustin protests.

“Go.” El’s voice rings out, low and deadly.

“Steve, she thinks you’re not telling her for _other reasons,_ ” Nancy whispers, but you can still make out what she says through the door. “If you ever want her back in your life again, you have to tell her. She can take it,” she says fiercely. “She deserves that, at least.”

“Shit,” Steve hisses, and you can hear his footsteps thunder toward the door.

You tense as the door swings open, his shoulders hunched and brows knitted together. You look past him, lips pursed, knowing he can see the tears in your eyes. “What, Steve?” you snap.

He swallows, but the look he gives you is fierce. He grabs you by the forearms. “Look, I didn’t want to tell you because what I’m about to say and what you’re about to see is…like a nightmare. It’s going to scare the shit out of you, and if you ever talk about it again, you could be in serious trouble. Like, government could come and snatch you out of your bed trouble.” Sweat beads on his forehead, and you haven’t ever seen Steve Harrington this scared in your life.

You start to laugh him off, but he shakes you again, demanding your attention. “Joey, I know what I did. And it was the stupidest, most fucked up decision I have ever, ever made,” his eyes are boring into you, and you can’t look away. “I could never make it up to you, but I wish every single day that I could go back to that night and do it differently. But I promise you, wanting to keep this away from you has _nothing_ to do with not wanting you around and everything to do with wanting to protect you.”

Your hands shake a little at his words, but you snap back at him. “I’m not a child, Steve, you’ve never had to protect me.”

“I know that, but this is…this is a secret I wish I didn’t know.” He pulls you close to him so suddenly it takes your breath. He wraps his arms tightly around your waist, crushing you to him. Your nose is pressed against his chest, and you finally wrap your arms around him, hugging him back. “You don’t think I missed you?” He whispers, and your throat is instantly tight. “That I don’t miss my best friend? That I don't want you back?” Your fingers tighten into his jacket, and you’re so overcome with disbelief that he’s standing here, saying these things to you. Words that you’ve prayed over and over again to hear.

The laundry room door bursts open, and light streams around Dustin’s silhouette.

“So is she coming or not?”

* * *

 

You follow Steve and the rest of the party, now including Jonathan and Nancy, outside to Steve’s shed. You have been told you need to gather "monster hunting supplies," which still feels as humorous as it sounds.

You’re a little giddy, whether from Steve’s words or slowly being filled in about what in the hell you’re about to do, until Will, sweet, soft-spoken Will Byers, places a bear trap in your hands. An real, live bear trap. 

“Careful,” he warns, and you have to pick your jaw up off the floor.

“Okay, hang on a minute—“ you start, carefully turning the thing in your hands.

“Look, all you need to know is we’re looking for a Demogorgon, and he’s real. We don’t know if he’s here yet, but if he is, we have to send him back from where he came,” Dustin says to you slowly, as if speaking to a child. He does this while funneling gasoline into a portable gas can.

“Which is called the…Upside Down?” You finish.

“Yes,” Lucas says. He’s winding a length of garden hose in his hands.

“But we’re talking about a monster from a made-up game, you know this, right? DnD is not real, it’s fiction.” You realize you’re gesturing with the bear trap. “You’re telling me we’re going after a two-headed, baboon faced demon.”

Dustin sighs at you, mildly frustrated. “No, it doesn’t look like the drawings from the books, we just borrowed the name. But it is a real monster—“

“That can smell blood a mile away,” Steve finishes. “That can and will hunt you like prey. Trust me,” he swallows.

“And you’ve defeated one of these things before?” You ask, eyeing the supplies they’re gathering: boxes and boxes of ammunition, gasoline, the large bear trap you wish you could put down.

Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve look at each other sheepishly. “Well, not with this stuff. We’ve only run it off,” Nancy says.

“Then why are we gathering shit like we’re the bomb squad?” You ask incredulously, finally getting rid of the monstrosity in your hands.

“Because if it is out wandering in the woods, we have to find it. We need to be prepared to scare it off or lure it to us if we have to, so that El can close the portal.” Mike says, passing you a bandana and a pair of swimming goggles, which you take with great perplexity.

“Wait, what? El?” You turn to the brown-haired girl beside you, who calmly comes to stand in front of you.

“El is…special,” Steve begins, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“She’s freaking badass,” Dustin calls, picking up a cardboard box. “That’s why you get along so well,” and he actually winks at you. Obviously, Steve has been rubbing off on him.

“She should show her, guys. They’re her powers, and Joey needs to know,” Max says, coming to stand beside you. “Show her, El.”

El looks up at you, hands out, and softly says. “Don’t be afraid.”

As you’re wondering if you can be any more baffled and would never be afraid of the lamb of a girl in front of you, the bandana and goggles you are holding slowly rise from your hand. On their own. As if being drawn up by an invisible thread.

With wide eyes, you watch them hover in front of you, and you know your mouth is hanging open. You risk a glance at El, who has a trickle of blood running down her nose. You start toward her, but freeze and look around the room to see that all of the protective wear Mike has passed around is floating in mid-air, and then slowly begins to spin around the room.

“Telekinesis,” you whisper, and the girl gives you the smallest smile before lowering the objects down again, your bandana and goggles landing in her hands. She hands them back to you, and wipes the blood on her sleeve.

“See,” Dustin comes up to throw an arm around you, and you think your face will permanently be stuck like this, gaping like a fish. “Told you she was a badass.”


	4. Baby, I Don't Wanna Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I feel like I just laid a glorious egg, because I have been pushing this chapter OUT all afternoon! And I'm pretty proud of it. If I've missed any errors, it's because I'm delirious.   
> Also, I step away from second person/Reader voice and go to third person briefly, just because it’s unavoidable to hear other parts of the story. I know this isn’t proper writing, but hey, that’s why I’m hanging out here on AO3. Breaking all the rules.

You’re carrying a handful of “gear” and following the rest of the group to Steve’s BMW, where you load various objects into the car.

“I don’t really see why we’re bothering to take all this stuff, anyway,” Lucas says, passing you a baseball bat to stow in the trunk. “We have El. Don’t you remember what she did that night we were at Will’s?”

“ _Because,_ for the hundredth time, if there’s more than one demodog and El gets worn out, we’re fucked,” Mike says exasperatedly. El sighs beside him, as if she doesn’t want to think about the fact.

You are still trying not to look at the quiet girl like she has four heads. After what you just saw in Steve’s shed, you have a million questions, but you feel like the best thing to do is keep your mouth shut, especially knowing that El seems to have a huge job in front of her. Silently, she comes to stand beside you, sliding her hand into yours. You give her what you hope is a reassuring smile and wonder if she can read minds, too.

Jonathan is steadily trying to convince the kids to stay at the house where they will be safe, especially Will, but they are not having it.

“We’re not _kids_ , Jonathan. Plus, we’ve been to the Upside Down too, you know,” Dustin sneers, coming to stand beside Steve with his chest puffed out. “We fought the demodogs with Steve. We know what we’re doing!”

“Yeah Jonathan,” Will adds. “I know you’re worried about me, but I’m not alone. We have El, and we know what we’re facing. Besides, if anyone knows what they’re getting into, I think it’s me.” He swallows heavily. You notice he has a large, rusty crowbar clenched in one hand. “Jonathan,” he says quietly. “I’m not afraid. It’s okay.”

His brother runs a hand over his face and stares back down at Will for a few moments before speaking. “Fine, but you will _not_ leave my side. You will not leave my sight. Understood?”

Will solemnly nods in response, and holds out his pinky to his brother. Your heart crumples at Jonathan’s expression when he fiercely takes the pinky promise.

“Okay, then we’ll have to take Jonathan’s car too,” Nancy says. “Steve, follow us.”

Max, Lucas, Mike, and Eleven pile into Steve’s car, with Dustin clambering into the front without question. You give Steve a little smile and thumb over your shoulder toward the rest of the group, who head toward Jonathan’s car. He looks a little dismayed, maybe because you’re not riding with them, but you think you need a moment away from him to clear your head after the words you shared in the laundry room. “I’ll see you there,” you say, turning. He throws up his hand, expression unreadable.

You remember something as you jog to catch up with Nancy, Jonathan, and Will. “Hang on, guys. I’m going to grab something out of my car. We may need it.” Nancy nods and Jonathan starts up the car. He drives you the quarter mile down the road to your vehicle, which is still where you left it on the right shoulder. You jog across the road, and Steve’s headlights illuminate you as he pulls up behind Jonathan. You feel his eyes on you as you unlock the sedan, reaching around to pop open the lock of the back door.

You sigh in relief when you see the pump-action shotgun lying in the foot, and you check the chamber and safety, grabbing a mostly full box of slugs from under the seat. As you sling the strap over your shoulder and jog back to Jonathan’s car, you hear Dustin whoop in front of you.

“Oh _fuck_ yeah!” Steve whacks him in the back of the head and grins out at you.

 

“So, how have you been, Joey?” Nancy asks, and you laugh nervously at each other as she catches your eye in Jonathan’s rearview mirror. You both know this small talk is ridiculous, but you all want to break the silence in the car.

“Uh, I’ve been good. School, work, you know. My car broke down again, so that sucks.”

She nods, shifting in her seat to face you in the backseat next to Will.

“So why are you mad at Steve, Joey?”

You freeze, looking out the windshield past Nancy.

“Hey, don’t be nosy. That’s personal,” Jonathan says gently.

“No, no, Will, it’s okay. I don’t mind you asking.”

“Sorry,” he says, big eyes apologetic. “I just know Steve said you guys used to be best friends and…you can tell. And I keep trying to think what Mike could do to me to make me not talk to him for that long. Or any of the guys, really.”

You swallow, shame washing over you at the fact that this middle schooler is wiser than you ever dared to be.

You take a deep breath. “So, Steve and I were best friends, like he said. But we were attached at the hip. We did everything together. I mean, _everything.”_ You laugh a little. “We talked on the phone every night in middle school. Rode our bikes to and from school together, spent every day hanging out during the summers. I even spent the night over at his house when we were little. His mom thought it was 'inappropriate' when we got older,” you say, imitating Mrs. Harrington. Will laughs softly.

“But maybe she was right, because we got closer in eighth grade. Gosh, he even walked me to class every day. Things just…got different,” you smile a little at the memory, knowing now what your naïve middle school mind did not understand then. You knew you liked him, but you always thought Steve Harrington just saw you as his partner in two-on-two basketball. You were such a tomboy, after all, with your wild, unruly hair and pencil thin legs. Surely, he didn’t see you that way, not the way you looked at him.

“But then, he asked me to the Snowball,” you say, and you can’t keep the grin off your face, thinking back to that phone conversation. After you told him yes and the two of you awkwardly said goodbye, you hung the phone up and slid down the wall, grinning so hard your jaw hurt. Your mom actually helped you pick out a dress and brand new shoes, which shocked you almost as much as Steve asking you in the first place. It was navy blue, with long bell sleeves and a flowy skirt adorned with tiny gold flowers. You remember telling your mom it looked just like something Stevie Nicks would wear, and you felt so beautiful twirling around your room in it.

“So my mom dropped me off, and I got there before Steve, so I waited for him in the lobby. I don’t really remember what happened next, except Chris Larkin came up to me and started talking about the campaign he was working on. We played DnD together and he was our DM,” you explain, and Will grins at that. “Then I saw Mr. Harrington’s car pull away, and Steve came up the steps. He looked right at me, but he didn’t say a word. He just pushed through the crowd, and he looked so…mad? I don’t know. I didn’t understand why. I looked for him and called his name, thinking he was just messing with me. But when I finally found him, he was making out with Jessica Reynolds. He kept dancing with her…even after he saw me.” You feel three sets of eyes on you when you finish, and you bite your lip and look out the window next to you, trying to push down the memory and your ridiculous emotions.

“I know it’s silly. I don’t care anymore. We just never talked about it afterwards and just…we just stopped being friends because of that. I don’t know if it’s because neither one of us initiated the conversation, or if it’s because he had rather it ended that way.”

“But you never asked him,” Nancy states. You shake your head, embarrassed to realize that you may be just as guilty as Steve is. You’ve been holding this preteen grudge over his head the whole time, but he’s been just as scared to talk to you as you have been to talk to him.

“Are you still mad at Steve?” Will asks, and you startle a little at finally hearing his voice. Or maybe at the question.

“Um, I guess not. It was a long time ago. People make mistakes, I guess…” you say, staring out the window, your cheeks growing warm. “I—I don’t know. I mean, after what happened, and then he never even came after me! After all those years...he never tried talking to me about it. Tonight was the first time I've talked to him since that night,” you say, and you’re thankful for the darkness of the car. Nancy purses her lips, an apologetic expression on her face.

“No, he did,” Jonathan says suddenly. “He did go after you.” He meets your eyes in the mirror.

“What are you talking about? No, he didn’t. I saw him with Jessica, he looked right at me, and I turned around and left.” You run your hands up and down your arms, a nervous tick. “I walked all the way home. I never saw him.” You still remember crunching through the frozen snow in those new dress shoes. By the time you got home that night, your feet were so wet and cold, you couldn’t feel them. You slipped in the back door so as not to wake your mother, feet frozen and face hot from crying.

“I saw him, Joey. I saw you both.” Jonathan sighs, looking both ways to make a right turn. “I was sitting just inside the lobby by the bathrooms, because I…I didn’t want to go into the dance.” Nancy narrows her eyes and puts her hand on his forearm silently. You know she regrets all the teasing he endured over the years, especially the times she witnessed it and never made an effort to stop it.

“Anyway, I saw you run out. I saw you crying,” he says softly, looking down from the mirror. “Not five minutes later, he came running into the lobby. He didn’t see me, but he was looking for you. Called your name. He even ran into the girls’ bathroom,” he says with a small smile. “But the Vice Principal caught him coming out and he got in trouble. He never went outside, because if he had, he probably would have seen you. Probably would have run after you too.”

You avoid his probing gaze in the rearview now, focusing on the shotgun in your lap. Will is counting the slugs in the box, and he gives you a sad smile as you glance over at him.

“I know he messed up Joey,” Nancy says, putting a hand on your knee. “But he talked about you all the time, even when we were together. He told me all kinds of stories about you. About how you loved to read and that you miss your dad and your favorite ice cream is Cherry Cordial, but only if you get it from—“

“Vance’s Store,” you laugh at the memory. “I was so pissed when they shut it down. We rode our bikes for miles to get there. He even rode me on the back of his bike when my tire was flat, which was often,” you say, rolling your eyes. Nancy smiles gently at you.

“He cares about you, Jo. Just talk to him. I think he deserves a second chance.”

Will nods beside you as Jonathan pulls the car to the shoulder and puts it in park. "Steve  _is_ pretty great, Joey. I used to think he was a huge dick, but he grows on you."

* * *

 

Steve slides into the driver’s seat and cranks the car. He watches Joey walk away, still wearing his sweatpants.

“Love is war, buddy,” Dustin breaks him from his reverie and claps him hard on the back. “You know what will make you feel better? Going into battle.” He gives Steve his signature grin as he gestures with The Bat, Steve's bat, the one with the nails.

Steve sighs, backing the car out of the driveway, and he’s hit with a wave of déjà vu as he sees the four kids wedged in the back seat. He taxis the brats around quite a bit, so this isn’t the first time they’ve all crammed into his car. He’s just thankful that this time his face is in one piece and Red isn’t driving his fucking car.

Not a minute after they’ve pulled onto the dark road, he’s stopping behind Jonathan and Joey is dashing across the road, eyes bright as she looks into his headlights.

“What the hell is she doing?” He mutters to himself, but when she emerges from her clunker of a car with a Mossberg 500 and a box of 12 gauge buckshot, he can’t help but laugh. Leave it to Jo to always be prepared, even to hunt something from another dimension. He smacks Dustin on the head out of principle, but _fuck yeah_ is right, she is so incredibly cool he can’t believe he's ever been in the same room with her.

“Dude, okay, level with me. You guys _used to_ be friends? How are you not friends with the coolest person on the planet?” Dustin is gesturing again with The Bat. Steve glances in the rearview and sees Eleven’s dark eyes staring at him, like she’s just waiting for an answer.

“Yeah Steve, what did you do?” Max asks. “You’re obviously in love with her.”

“Hey!” He jerks around, swiping around in the back seat, trying to make contact. “Watch it! I am not.”

“Friends don’t lie,” El says pointedly, and Mike grins wickedly.

“Dude, it’s okay. You can admit it,” Dustin puts his hand on Steve’s arm, who rolls his eyes in reply. Steve feels cold sweat roll down his back. “We can see it.”

“See what?” Steve snaps, focusing on the road ahead of him. On Joey’s wild curly mop of hair in the back of Jonathan’s car.

“The _electricity._ ”

Steve sighs loudly, avoiding the knowing look on Dustin's face. “Look, what did she tell you? We just grew apart. That’s it. End of story. Whether we have ‘electricity’ or not is beside the point."

“Well, that would never happen to us, right guys?” Dustin whirls around in the seat to face his friends in the back.

But Mike and Lucas are quiet, looking at each other and then at Dustin.

“I mean, no way man. Definitely not,” Lucas finally forces out. “We do everything together. We are a well-oiled machine.”

Steve watches from the rearview as Mike swallows, looking ahead. “I mean, so did you and Joey, right Steve? My mom says that too, that even your best friends growing up can be strangers when you get older.” The boys pale, and Dustin’s bright smile falls. He slides back into the front seat, brow furrowing.

Steve huffs. “Look, you little shits, you’re going to be friends forever, alright? Joey and I don’t talk anymore because I did something really stupid. I hurt her feelings, and I ruined our friendship, and I’ve been scared to talk to her ever since. I haven’t even talked to her until tonight when she showed up at my house.” He slaps his hands on the steering wheel and slumps back against the seat.

“Then what the hell did you do?” Mike asks, and the kids inch forward in their seats for the story.

“I asked her to go to the Snowball with me. I was so freakin’ scared, because she wasn’t just some girl you know? You can see that. She played ball with me, she could run faster than me, she was better in school than me. Hell, she even fought some guy for me. I don’t just mean she slapped a guy for talking shit to me, she beat the crap out of this guy who bullied me all through middle school.” All the boys are in various states of elation, high fiving and slapping arms in disbelief. Steve laughs, “Yeah, she was just so damn _cool_. But…I was crazy about her. I didn’t want to say anything because—“

“Because you would ruin the friendship! Of course,” Dustin chimes in, practically bouncing in his seat.

“Exactly.” Steve stares back to Jonathan’s car, and he can see Joey’s profile now. She's laughing at something. He goes on. “But I manned up, you know? I asked her to the dance. Called her up and everything. She said she’d go with me,” he can't help but grin at the memory, remembering how awkwardly they’d gotten off the phone and how he’d raced through the house whooping, bouncing on the couch until his dad yelled at him to go to his room. “So my dad takes me to the dance, gives me a pep talk on the way. I’m pumped, this is going to be the best night of my life.” He can still remember looking at himself in the mirror, stealing his mom’s Farrah Faucett spray to use for the first time and totally rocking it. “And right when we pull up, I can see her through the lobby window. My dad asked me who the hell she was talking to, and I had no clue, I was just excited. It was Chris somebody, this kid she played DnD with, which I thought was dumb, but I went with her sometimes because…I don’t know, I just did.” He waves his hand dismissively at Dustin, who is practically in his lap in suspense.

“But my dad was pissed. He said, ‘You haven’t even made it inside and she’s already trying to talk to some other guy? You better teach her a lesson.’ I didn’t understand why it mattered, but what my dad said was gold back then. I thought he was the smartest person in the world.”

“Sounds like a mouthbreather to me.” El quietly responds.

“Well, he told me I should just go hang all over some other girl, to make her jealous, you know? That if I did she’d come crawling back to me.”

“Steve! Are you fucking kidding me?!” Max’s head and shoulders are suddenly wedged into the front seat. She punches him in the arm. He doesn't say a word, he knows he deserves it.

Dustin looks disappointed. “Man, she doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who would fall for that.”

El’s stare through the mirror looks like it could cut him in half. “That was mean,” she says.

“That’s not all,” Steve sighs, looking ahead to avoid their accusing stares. “I went in and I completely ignored her. I went and danced with some girl, I don’t even remember her name. And then she didn’t even come looking me, so I got really pissed. So pissed that when she finally found me, and I knew she was looking…” He swallows, shaking his head.

“Steve, what did you do?” Mike groans, and Max is all but growling at him. Lucas runs his hand over his face and Dustin moans in denial.

“…I kissed her, so Joey would see me. Then I looked right at her.”

Steve can see the hurt on her face like it happened yesterday. She was a broken windowpane, and he had delivered the shattering blow. She was so beautiful that night too, her hair worn loose from it's usual ponytail, long and crazy, which he loved. She was wearing a dress and heels and she looked so much like a _girl,_ but his best friend at the same time. He remembered how both her knees were skinned under the hem of her dress from the day before. They had been playing one-on-one and he checked her.

“Now I see why Jonathan thinks you’re such a dick,” Mike grumbles, arms folded across his chest. Dustin cuts his eyes to the backseat, but he doesn’t respond.

“Did she cry?” Eleven asks, and Steve runs a hand over his face, acid burning in his stomach.

“Yeah, El. She did,” he says softly. “She turned around and ran out. I stopped and ran after her, yelled her name like a maniac. I even went into the girls bathroom looking for her. I knew I’d fucked up,” he sighs, and the party chuckles weakly. “She always could run faster than me. I never saw her again that night. Never talked to her again either.”

He kills the engine, parked behind Jonathan on the side of the road. The kids are silent, and El puts her head on Mike's shoulder. In front of them, Joey opens her door and ruffles Will’s hair, shouldering her shotgun.

“So yeah, I guess you can say we grew apart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: All of the lyric-based one liners I wanted Dustin to give in this one weren’t released before 1985! 80s, you pain me.  
> PPS: My husband's family regards pinky-promises as a life or death manner. They are not to be broken, so a nod to that.  
> PPPS: Where I'm from, we say "foot," because it is where you put your feet in the car. None of this "floorboard" business.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Fleetwood Mac's "Silver Springs," which also inspired the work. Snaps if you know the song!


End file.
